


Funereal Rites

by Starofwinter



Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Funeral Home, Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Death Positivity, M/M, Original Character Death(s), Tenderness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-02
Updated: 2020-07-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:21:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25027627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starofwinter/pseuds/Starofwinter
Summary: A god of the dead and a mortician walk into a crematorium; it should be the start of a joke, but it isn't.
Relationships: Jango Fett/Obi-Wan Kenobi
Comments: 13
Kudos: 246





	Funereal Rites

**Author's Note:**

> I have an interest in Death Positivity and I'm making that everyone else's problem.

"Hello, old friend," Obi-Wan says as he feels the air shift behind him. 

"Obi-Wan," Jango greets him, "Who's this one?" He rests a hand on the table next to the body laid out there.

Obi-Wan pauses in his work. "A John Doe," he says quietly, "They found him in an alley, no ID, no matches to missing persons." No one to grieve the life cut short but him. He goes back to washing the young man's hair, cleaning away the grime. As Jango watches, he trims, dries, and styles it before moving on. He narrates it all to the man on the table as if he were alive, his voice steady and soft.

As he wraps the shroud around him, tucking flowers under his palms and inside the folds of fabric, he murmurs the words of a prayer he's said a thousand times. Before, he'd said it and only had his own belief to say that anyone heard it.

Now, Jango listens. He stands and bears witness to the rituals and prayers in his name, his eyes on Obi-Wan as he offers the last rites to the people who cross his table. 

"I'll watch over him," Jango promises, as they give the body to the flames, "He will always have a place at my table."

"Thank you." Obi-Wan reaches out to him, and Jango reaches back. The unclaimed ones hurt the most - lost souls with no one to grieve or offer a memory to guide them. Those are the ones Obi-Wan mourns himself, giving them the dignity of a final resting place, and someone to remember that they had lived. 

In the end, that's what had drawn Jango's attention. The same voice, over and over, offering prayers to him and the flowers for the dead. He'd observed at first, watching as Obi-Wan took in the bodies, washed and shrouded them, all with the same dignity and respect he would offer a family member. Those who would otherwise go unclaimed, buried in potter's fields or cremated and left in boxes to gather dust, unmourned and unremembered. He watched as Obi-Wan committed each day to comforting the mourning and preparing the dead - an exhausting, often thankless job, but one he does faithfully. 

When he did make himself known, Obi-Wan hadn't even been surprised; he only smiled and said, "I didn't think I'd meet you so soon." It had caught Jango off-guard, but in the years since, he's learned never to guess what his beloved will do or say - it's almost guaranteed to always be a surprise. 

Nothing and everything has changed between them since. Obi-Wan still speaks with the same mixture of reverence and mischief as he has from the start, even now as he offers, "Well, I'd intended to pour this out for you, but would you rather a glass instead?" He pulls out the bottle of fine whiskey reserved for the dead, tilting it toward Jango.

He takes it and pours it into the crystal cup he conjures, and offers Obi-Wan the second. The alcohol gleams gold, the cup already dripping with condensation from the heat of the furnace. "Will you come home with me?" he asks, as he does every time they meet, "You would never have to work again. You'd be draped in finery and sit at my side."

As always, Obi-Wan shakes his head. "If I did, who would take my place here? Who would care for them if I don't?" His smile is warm and fond, tinged as it is with resignation and longing in turns. This is the answer that endears him more every day to Jango. 

"Then I'll wait," Jango promises, as he always does. He will. He has all the time in the world, and if Obi-Wan asks him to wait, then he will wait until his beloved is ready to join him. Until then, he laces their fingers together and lets him rest his head on his shoulder.

Eventually, the flames burn out, and Obi-Wan removes the ashes. The urn is so small, to contain a human life, Jango thinks. Obi-Wan closes it and carefully labels them before he carries the urn outside to a crypt. There are dozens of others there, each one labeled just as neatly. The door is removed, and the vase set on a shelf. "May you find rest, my friend, and find the next life kinder to you than this one," he murmurs, his voice breaking on the final words.

Jango rests his hand at Obi-Wan's back. "He will." This is a promise he can make, at least. The dead are under his protection, and while he would never shirk his duty to them, reassuring Obi-Wan makes it all the easier. 

He's rewarded with a smile. "Will you come in for dinner?" Obi-Wan asks, tilting his head in invitation. "I started that stew you like this morning, it should be ready."

Jango smiles back, taking Obi-Wan's hand to let him lead the way. Humans are such short-lived, delicate things, but it only makes him love this one all the more. 

**Author's Note:**

> If any of this - or the concept of Death Acceptance/Death Positivity in general - interested you, I highly recommend Ask A Mortician/Caitlin Doughty's videos on youtube, or her books! She's wonderful at demystifying death and the ceremonies around it, and she's fun to listen to.


End file.
